The Unbearable Weight of Gorgeousness
by Arlad
Summary: There is such a thing as Brian being too hot. Coauthored between Arlad and Staysublime


Title: The Unbearable Weight of Gorgeousness  
Authors: Arlad and Lady Erzulie

Summary: There is such a thing as Brian being too hot  
Genre: Crack!fic, humor, romance

A/N: Same universe as 'A Duck Called Hugo' and 'Domesticated? Yeah, right'  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all of its characters are property of CowLip, we're only borrowing them

**The Unbearable Weight of Gorgeousness**

It must be extremely tedious being Brian.

Everyone wants him. All the time. Doesn't matter if they're men, women, kids, overly hormonal teenagers, pets, or creatures of as of yet undefined genre, everyone wants him.

At first, it was hot. He loved it. All the attention and all that_ ass_. But now. Now. It's too much. He can't do anything, have anything, or be anywhere without being chased after. If Brian admits it to himself, he's scared.

Like, take last week for example. He was chilling out at Woody's, playing pool, making dirty gestures with his stick so Justin would decide to drop to his knees right there and blow him, when this guy walks up to him. And starts crying. Really crying.

And telling him he has a shrine dedicated to him in his house, and that he made a star be named after him. And that if Brian doesn't fuck him again, he'll do something drastic... like kill himself

Or stop eating chocolate, or something.

Brian was shocked. Justin was shocked. Mikey, Ben, Ted, Emmett, the crystal queen turned counselor and Emmett's flavour of the week were shocked.

Did the guy forget Brian's rules?

So of course, Brian told him no. He had him, and it's no repeats. And the guy whipped out a switch blade. And a bottle of Tylenol. Honestly, who the fuck carries these things around?

Brian just stared at the guy. Then he looked at Justin who shrugged his shoulders. Shit was going way too far. Brian loved scenes, in fact he was a master at creating them, but threatening to attempt suicide for him? Not hot. Even though it was mildly ego boosting. Just mildly.

So, with a great, put upon sigh, he knocked the blade and pill bottle from the guy's hand, and dragged him to Blake. Or, you know, the crystal queen turned counselor. Cause he figured he would know what to do.

"What the fuck is up? What do I do?" Brian was mad. He did not take care of crazy motherfuckers. He didn't even know how he got put in this situation.

Was it his fault that Jack and Joanie did one fabulous thing in their life and put a gorgeous, sexy, hot, perfect, beautiful, fit and every other synonym of fucking hot on the earth? This was not fair.

And suicidal, creepy stalkers wasn't the last of it. Brian had plenty of experience with stalkers, he'd had them since he was fourteen. But two of them ended up sticking around, one as his best friend and the other as his partner. No, the point where things started getting weird was with the animals.

One time, he was in the pet store with Justin, getting shit for that fucking crazy cat, when this snake slid up to him out of nowhere. How did it get out of its cage?

And then, this parrot started leering at him. Like, what the fuck is that about?

He could have sworn on the bible, the kama sutra, his favorite porn dvds, Ben's zen books, his dick and even Justin's ass that the bird said "Awwwkkk, hot man, hot man, fuck me, fuck me. Awwwkkk."

And he wasn't high on anything that day. Honestly. So he totally freaked out and left the pet store, and had to endure a three hour long rant, courtesy of Justin, of how terribly selfish he was because he never liked getting anything for the cat, but the duck had designer accessories.

Fuck that shit. Hugo was special. He was a duck who knew his shit. Sometimes, they even read GQ together and Hugo would squeak happily on the pages with the really hot guys and even hotter suits.

That fucking cat was called Coco Chanel and it was mean. It always tried to disfigure him too.

Who the fuck named their cats after some Parisian bitch? He could have at least named the cat Dolce, or Gabanna. Or even Prada. Or Armani. Was that too much to ask?

The animals were certainly weird, but it was when Melanie started making googoo eyes at him that Brian decided something had to give.

Lindsay and Melanie had gone away for the weekend so Brian and Justin (Justin) had volunteered to house sit and watch the little children. Everything was going just peachy, if you didn't count the fact that Gus tried to choke the cat (Brian slipped him a cookie for that) and that J.R. basically cried the whole time. I mean, she was Michael's daughter, what the fuck else did anyone expect?

Brian decided that sleeping on the muncher bed would be going too far, so they slept on the couch. Well surprise, surprise, the muchers came home early, right when Brian got up to make coffee. Naked.

Lindsay shrieked. Mel shrieked. Justin groaned 'five more minutes' from the couch. Brian simply raised an eyebrow and continued to make coffee. He didn't fail to notice, however, that for all their shrieking, the 'lezzies' were eyeing Brian jr. with particular interest.

So, Brian did the Christian thing and turned to give them a good view. Lindsay ran upstairs in 'horror', but muncher Mel stayed where she was. If Brian wasn't busy feeling like he was getting molested with _eyes _he would have laughed at the lustful look that crossed Melanie's face.

"Like what you see?"

Mel finally deigned to look at his face and visibly struggled to say. "Uh... no. Gross. Asshole." She then followed Linds up the stairs, but not after taking one last peek at the glory that was Brian's dick.

Justin chose right then to get his ass up off the couch.

"What's going on?" he asked rubbing his eyes. "Is there any breakfast?"

Brian glared at him. And then grabbed him by the wrist and led him to outside to the car.

"Brian, what's wrong?"

"You have to give me a blow job right now. Before I lose my mind or Melanie comes to fuck me."

Justin, still half a sleep and half dressed with only boxers and a t shirt on blinked at him.

"What? No. She's a lesbian, she likes pussy Brian, pussy. Your ego is going crazy."

Justin seemed almost disgusted by Brian.

"Oh, yeah?" Brian challenged. "Fine, let me prove it to you."

He dragged Justin back into the house and upstairs to the Muncher's bedroom.

"Here, listen Justin. Listen to my 'ego'." He even made the bunny fingers. "Something isn't right Justin. Things are getting out of control." He pushed Justin's head against the door.

_"Yeah, harder, harder... like Brian's dick, give it to me like Brian's dick."_

Justin almost threw up. Brian stood there with a satisfied smirk on his face.

"See, I told you." Brian taunted Justin as they ran down the stairs and out the door. "I told you. But, noooooo, it was just Brian's over active imagination. Brian doesn't know when someone comes on to him, cause it hasn't been going on for years. Brian's an -"

"Shut the fuck up with the 'Brian'. You sound stupid"

Justin buckled his seatbelt and looked ahead.

"This coming from someone who actually joined something called the Pink Posse," Brian muttered.

"Shut up Brian. We were a vigilante group trying to help all fags, and-"

"Please. Don't start with that shit Justin. It was fucking stupid. And gay. Gayer than Emmett. Gayer than that closet fag Drew Boyd. So gay."

The rest of the ride to the loft continued in stony silence. But when they got to the loft, Brian looked so hot that Justin forgot their argument and gave him a blow job.

They took a shower. And had sex. Hot sex.

When Brian got out of the shower to get a towel, Coco Chanel was on the bed looking at him. Like a looking thing.

"What? Why are you looking at me?"

Coco hissed at him.

"Brian, are you talking to your clothes again?" Justin's voice drifted from the bathroom. "You know they can't answer back, right?"

"No dick face. Your cat is ogling me and lurking around. Like a lurking thing."

Justin came out of the bathroom. "Brian, now you're just being paranoid. Didn't you say Coco hated you?"

Brian just pointed at the bed. Where Coco Chanel was looking at him like he was milk, or a fish... or something cats liked to eat.

Then Coco laid back with his legs spread wide open. Like he was waiting for Brian to do something.

Brian stared in horror. Justin stared in horror. And Hugo squeaked.

"This is ridiculous now." Justin was fed up. "It's not true." He turned to look at Brian. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???"

Brian was stunned. "Me? Are you saying I'm somehow responsible for my fucking _genes_? It's genetic, Justin! I can't fucking help it!"

"No. It's not your genes. Don't blame this shit on DNA! Something is wrong with you. If it was genetic, Jack and Joanie would have been sex machines too. What type of voodoo did you do?"

Brian was completely dumbfounded. "Voodoo? I didn't-"

His words were cut off by the sound of something outside the loft. He frowned and looked at Justin questioningly. Justin shrugged. They both walked towards the window. And their jaws dropped at the sight of the street below.

"What the fuck?"

"This looks like fucking TRL, Brian! They have signs, Brian. Signs."

Down below on the street, it looked like there were hundreds of men. And women. And a few animals. Holding candles and shit. It looked like a vigil, except they had signs and pictures of Brian.

"How the fuck did they get that picture?" Brian was horrified.

"Oh, my God... is that... Daphne! Mom! What the fuck are they doing there?"

"Ok, this shit has got to stop. Come on," Brian went to the bedroom and pulled on some jeans and a wifebeater. He threw Justin some clothes.

"Where are we going?" Justin asked curiously, putting on his pants.

"To the police."

Brian walked into the police station with Ray-Ban sunglasses on. Like he was a fucking celebrity trying to avoid the paparazzi. Justin was behind him, being dragged like a rag doll.

"Hurry up. Before I let go of you and give you to the dogs."

"Fuck, Brian, would you cool it with the James Bond routine?"

Brian glared at him. "Whatever. Lets just get this done before I lose my mind."

"You know, that look is very uneffective when I can't even see your fucking eyes."

Brian huffed in annoyance and turned to the desk clerk. Who was already looking at him like he was the last fucking drink in the desert.

"FUCK THIS SHIT!"

"Brian," Justin whispered. "isn't that guy a homophobe? I even saw him bothering a fag."

"Where the fuck is Horvath?" Brian stared the cop down. Waiting for him to do or say anything. Of any variety.

Eventually, the guy stopped slobbering long enough to point vaguely in the direction of an office.

"Thank you." Brian gave him one last look (through the shades) and followed Justin down the hall and into Horvath's office.

But Justin stopped before Brian could even go inside.

"Justin, what-?"

"Run, Brian, run!" Justin yelled.

They both tore down the aisle towards an emergency exit door.

A voice reached Brian's ears. "Brian? Brian is here? Briaaaaan!"

They didn't know what to do. Maybe Brian would just have to live with being loved by all. Everyone and everything.

It wasn't _that _bad.

I mean... what's a little unhealthy stalking and lusting after and creepy eye-molesting?

In the grand scheme of things.

And Brian, being the kind soul that he was, was willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good of all.

**The End.**

Authors' note: Ok, so this was what came of Lady Erzulie and me rambling on the hotness of Brian. And much, much silliness. Um… yeah. Feedback is heavenly!


End file.
